


Happy Christmas, Indeed

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, F/M, Harmony - Freeform, The Marauders Advent, fluff on fluff on fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: In a very on-brand move, Harry finds himself last-minute shopping for Christmas.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 94
Collections: The Marauders Advent 2020





	Happy Christmas, Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for The Marauders Advent 2020. Many thanks to [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/profile) for hosting this event; I aboslutely loved writing this piece.
> 
> My prompt was Harry Potter & Last-minute shopping
> 
> And, as always, forever and ever, many thanks to [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile) for her beta-work and friendship.

Harry Potter had to do a double-take when he walked into the small sandwich shop. He had been frequenting this shop a lot over the past few weeks, and he’d come to find it not just comforting but also the best place to get a sandwich and get some work done. The shop was conveniently located a few blocks from the hotel he was staying at in Upstate New York where he had been sent to try and track down a few straggling Death Eaters on the run. He was very tired and very homesick, and with late night and early mornings and being physically and mentally exhausted, Harry tended to lose all sense of time.

The handwritten chalkboard with that day's special read ‘December 23rd’.  _ Surely, that can't be right.  _ Harry cleared his throat at the counter, the muggle woman, the one who always seemed to be working, was very kind and smiled warmly at Harry, "Hello, again. How can I help you?"

"Yes. Erm. I’ll have the triple meat with jack cheese. Toasted. No tomatoes. But, um, is today really the twenty-third of December?" He motioned his head towards the chalkboard.

She nodded her head while ringing up his order. "Yup." The look on Harry's face must have given him away. "Still got some shopping to do then?"

Harry raised his hands to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks in worry, doing quick mental math, which he'd been doing a lot of these past few weeks. It was 7:25 pm, which meant it was 12:25 am in London.  _ It’s Christmas Eve at home,  _ he thought.

“Sir?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Yes. I still have some shopping to do. My girlfriend actually. I...I’ve been so busy with work. I’m a shit boyfriend, eh? I do this every single bloody year, and I always tell myself I won't. When will I learn?" He let out a deeply disappointed sigh, placing his hands upon his hips and looking up at the ceiling—frustrated with himself. 

The woman smiled warmly and shrugged, “Well, you still have some time.” Harry nodded, paid, and walked off to an open table. 

As he was finishing his sandwich, looking over some files—charmed of course to appear completely and totally muggle—the woman from behind the counter came and sat across from him. “What’s your girlfriend like? Maybe I can help you come up with some ideas.”

Harry shut the folder and nodded, “Well, she’s very smart, I mean, absurdly brilliant. My go-to used to always be a book of some sort when we were younger, but now… she just buys whatever books she wants."

“You two have been together a while, then? This isn't a new relationship?” she inquired.

“Well, we grew up together. We’ve been friends since we were eleven and, well, without telling you my entire life story, we have been through a lot of hard times. I’ve loved her since I was eleven, but I fell in love with her not long after…” he paused, not wanting to say war, knowing that would prompt more questions, “not long after we finished secondary school. We’ve been together for five years now.” 

“Do you not want to get married?” her eyebrows were raised at this question.

He felt it dawn on him.

"No. I do. We do. I just haven't asked her. Work and all. You know? Actually, that gives me an idea. I need to get going. Have a good night, and Happy Christmas." Harry got up quickly, quickly shovelling his papers back into folders. This was when he wished he wasn’t in a muggle shop; he could have just flicked his wand and cleaned up his mess, but he had to take his trash to the bin, push in his chair, and pick up any random napkins under the table. Finally, his area was in order, and he waved goodbye to the woman before heading out the door. 

He was filled with excitement, as he walked around downtown. He needed a jewellery shop. To some people this may have seemed like a rash decision, one without little thought or precursor, but not for him; this was just how he did things. 

He had never really given much thought to marrying Hermione because he had never imagined a life without her, to begin with. 

Once the war had ended, he and Hermione found that, despite dating other people, despite going about their lives separately, they kept coming back to one another. At first, it seemed as if it was because they had been best friends who weren’t good at not being around one another after so much time together, but it wasn’t that. 

Harry found that he missed the way Hermione would nudge him with her elbow when he would crack a joke, the way she tucked her feet underneath her when she sat in a chair to read, the way the few freckles on her nose crinkled when was contemplating whatever it was she was reading. The night Hermione fell asleep in his lap, her hair sprawled out against his lap, Crookshanks tucked behind her legs sleeping, he knew that he didn’t just love her, he was in love with her. 

He spent weeks trying to figure out how to indicate how he felt, and, as always, Hermione made it easy for him. It was Christmas at The Burrow: Ron cosily snuggled with Lavender, Ginny and Luna outdoors searching for some unknown creature, and every other Weasley sibling chatting with their significant other. Hermione and Harry sat on a couch, feeling a bit out of place. Not only were they not actual members of the Weasley family but they were also the only people not entangled with a partner. 

Harry was personally quite frustrated as he wanted to be entangled with Hermione, her sipping eggnog while leaning against him, his arm around her, while she looked over the book Mr and Mrs Weasley had gotten her, but that was  _ too  _ intimate. He wanted to bend down and press his lips to the top of her head, sweetly and tenderly. 

Frustrated with himself, he got up and went to the kitchen. He had no purpose in there, he didn’t want anything, but he had to get up and think. As he stood at the counter, gazing outside, the Christmas lights bobbling in the garden, he felt a hand on the small of his back. Turning around, he found Hermione standing there. She smiled at him, her same smile but a bit different, a touch unsure, perhaps. “Harry…” she began. Her eyelashes were dark against her skin as she looked down at her hands, “I care about you, you know that, right?”

Harry laughed, he figured that she must have picked up on his feelings and was trying to let him down easy. “Yeah. I know, Hermione. I know…” 

“I also  _ like  _ you, perhaps, more than that, but for now I’ll just say that I...really...I really like you, as more than just Harry Potter and Hermione Granger: Best Friends.” She said the last bit with a hand in the air, moving it between them as if she were reading a headline in The Prophet. She continued, “I understand that you may not feel that way, I’m not daft, but it is Christmas, and if there’s a time for honesty and truth, it’s now, and I wanted to...needed to tell you.” 

Harry felt a wave of relief hit him, an inexplicable sense of pure joy. A smile spread across his face as he looked down at her, the lights from outside were reflecting in her golden-brown eyes, “I also like you, Hermione, perhaps, more than that, as well, I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you for weeks now, but, once again, you’ve managed to save my arse.” 

Her arms flung around his neck in an embrace, her cheek pressed against his. 

As Harry walked, the crunch of snow beneath his boots, he thought back to this moment, and he realized that, yes, Christmas was the perfect time to ask her to marry him. Harry was, if anything, overly sentimental, and this would be a proper grand gesture: He would apparate back for Christmas as planned, arriving just in time for the Weasley’s annual Christmas party; he and Hermione would go outside and walk the garden for a few, admiring the lights, the crisp winter sky, and he’d ask her then. He would get down on one knee. He would take her hand in his, tell her how much he loved her and how she taught him and was still teaching him how to be the best version of himself. She’d say ‘yes’, and they’d embrace and kiss and then go back inside and tell everyone the news.  _ Happy Christmas, indeed, _ he thought. 

He found a jewellery store, he was certain she wore a size seven ring, and he chose one almost immediately: a white gold, round diamond with a halo of smaller diamonds with an outer halo of rubies.  _ Perfect.  _

As he left downtown, the sounds of Christmas songs from various shops filling his ears, the laughter of couples, an off-key passerby singing, he could have sworn he heard his name being called. 

“Harry!” 

  
He  _ had _ heard his name. He stopped and turned around, and there she was. His heart stopped when he saw her. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and he had missed her so. She wore a long blue peacoat over a dark heather grey cable-knit jumper-dress. Her hair fell over the shoulders of her peacoat, and he could see flecks of snow trapped in the spirals of her hair. It was an outfit she’d worn several times before, but he felt like he was seeing her for the first time all over again—the future seemed so clear to him, so bright and shiny. 

“Hermione! What are you doing here?” he asked walking to meet her.

“I know it’ll be hard for you to come all the way home for just a few hours to just have to come back to finish up the case. I figured it’d be nice to spend Christmas just the two of us, away from...everything else. Plus, you and I both know you haven’t even begun Christmas shopping, so this will buy you a little extra time, and I can help.” They laughed together, and he took her hand in hers, and they began to walk the street. 

The snow was slowly falling as they walked hand-in-hand, and Harry stopped walking. “What?” she asked as they came to a halt. Leaning in, he kissed her gently, slipping the hand she’d been holding into his coat pocket. He then, in the middle of a sidewalk, among people bustling around shopping and singing and chatting and sipping hot chocolate, he dropped down to one knee, taking her hand in his. He didn’t want to wait until they got home to ask her, and he certainly didn’t want to wait two days until Christmas, he wanted to ask her right then. Slipping the ring box out of his pocket, he held it in one hand with her hand in the other. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her, and he saw her eyes were welling with tears, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

“Hermione Jean Granger…” he began and his voice cracked, he could feel his own eyes tinging, warning him of tears, “there are so many things I could say right now, a variety of different ways I could ask you this question… Hermione, I knew you first as a bossy little girl, who seemed to think I was a complete buffoon; later, I knew you as a friend, and then as a best friend, a confidant, a critical part of my life, and then as a brilliant and strong warrior, a fighter, a survivor, then I got to know you as my girlfriend, my lover, and now...now I ask you to let me know you as my wife, my partner, for the rest of our lives—let me know you when you become Minister,  _ yes _ , you’ll become Minister of Magic, let me know you when you become a mother, let me know you forever. Will you allow me to learn and grow and love with you? Will you marry me, Hermione?” 

He searched her face, slow tears ran down her cheeks and she nodded and whispered softly and oh so beautifully, “Yes. Of course, I will marry you, Harry Potter.” 


End file.
